Three strikes and I’m out.

Some weeks look better in the rear view mirror and this was one of them. The CE wrestled with small disasters on BOTH home fronts. Things got soggy in New York when the apartment above ours sprang a leak. We currently have holes cut in our ceilings so everything can dry out. And here at home our yard is torn up while the failed septic tank is being replaced.

A molehill that looks strangely like a mountain

And just to make sure the misery gets spread around evenly, I’m 36 hours out from prolotherapy injections, which turn out to be just about as harrowing as I remember them. Prolotherapy (Proliferative Injection Therapy) is a technique used to strengthen weak ligaments and connective tissue.  A solution, usually dextrose and lidocaine, is injected directly into the ligaments, thereby irritating them and creating inflammation. As the body works to repair the area, scar tissue and – reportedly – collagen are built up in the area and the structural integrity of the ligament is strengthened. Or so they say. Doctors’ opinions vary as to how effective the technique is and it seems to work better in certain parts of the body than other.

This is what I had done on Friday, only the needle seemed MUCH bigger

I had extensive prolotherapy done a few years back and it really helped stabilize the hypermobility in my sacrum. My physical therapist has advised another pass at it in hopes of lessening lumbar spine rotation. Of course, if you’re going to go around poking needles in your back to cause inflammation, that’s exactly what you’ll get, and plenty of it. So while the CE paces the floor in worry over unwanted construction projects, I lay (lie?) on my fainting couch whimpering “Woe is me!”.

And the chickens are having none of it. Where are the crickets? Where are the mealworms?

"Those silly humans have their priorities all wrong"

In fact, there are delicate issues coming up in the barnyard as well. It seems that twice-a-day free-ranging expeditions are no longer sufficient for my three graces. They have now been spoiled into believing that additional cuddling sessions should be de rigueur.

Granny obliges Autumn's cuddle request

The week has not been a total loss. I finally finished Les Miserables, all 1260 pages. What an incredible story!

By now you know that Hope is tweeting on Twitter. She would love to have a few followers!

"Follow me! I know exactly where I'm going!"

About polloplayer

Empty nester searching for meaning of life through the occasional chicken epiphany.
This entry was posted in All Things Poultry, Annoyances of Life, Music/Art/Literature/Culture, Pain and Misery and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Three strikes and I’m out.

  1. Katherine says:

    Wow – what a week. Perhaps you should have read something a tad more uplifting…

  2. jess says:

    in my next life, i want to be a dizzy or a hope.

  3. Jean Gutsche says:

    So sorry about your three bad things! Hope everything resolves quickly!

  4. citymama says:

    Holes in your ceilings AND yard? Needles in your spine? REDO! Let’s redo the week!
    Feel better.

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